Ephel Duath - The Painter’s Palette

Artist: Ephel Duath
Release: The Painter’s Palette


1. The Passage (Pearl Grey)

I’ve a thousand ways to ruin all
But I’m walking to poor choices
A negative pulse will be searching for me

Immobilised in the cerebral cell
I’m observing my steps in vain

Are you coming to poison my remarks?
This grating offers protective trees and feeble barriers
But is too distant
The innocence’s round dance

My various eyes are melting
’cause the past is kidding me with the same consoling mask
But I’m coming to the passage
The exit from this opaque, filthy case
Come to listen, it’s so refined the whisper of my rise
I’m coming to the passage!

2. The Unpoetic Circle (Bottle Green)

It is quite ironic
I can’t slow down this run
But this was my object
To feel

Here
Without disturbances
Lives the sound
I want to close this cycle
But is it equilibrium?
We are sliding but all appears so immobile

And I’m so different from me
It’s so stupid
Please sketch a portrait to define
I will offer you our faces
Incompleteness
Indefinite resistance

Here
Without disturbances
Lives the sound
I want to close this cycle
But is it equilibrium?

We are sliding but all appears so immobile

3. Labyrinthine (Crimson)

Smell this gentle condition
Misanthropy

Is there something to respect?
Painting the same landscape again
You can lose what these fluid movements are electing

The unconscious, undesired companion wins
It’s so easy

Now you can admire
This mental abortion
He’s not an illegitimate child
He’s your monster

Why are you trying to suffocate?
Raise this figure and forget
Your unpure facade
This is the way out
This is the way out

Labyrinthine!
Let the union occur
Receive the essence with pride
The old theatre is falling asleep
This is the labyrinthine!

Smell this gentle condition
Misanthropy

The unconscious, undesired companion wins
It’s so easy

4. Praha (Ancient Gold)

[Instrumental]

5. The Picture (Bordeaux)

A never-ending painting
No subject defined
Not a precise style
Confused traits poor colours

Are you really able to find a message?

I, defeated
Grow dim again
To not graze this lying vision
To not admire the banal

Distantly
Glittering sides try to illude
Disturbing
No results
Again

I rove, hearing the noise of false moves
Skimming transparent figures
Observing a pale and sober painting
I will deface it
Enjoy the cut

6. Ruins (Deep Blue And Violet)

And in poor seconds
The filthy figures surrounding
Become obstacles

Smell of acid thoughts

Intoxicated eyes
Madly
Are you searching for the obscure calm?
But the partial blindness doesn’t relieve
And viscid words are shoves to the fury
My hostile guide

Memories contribute to mental fall
Skin refuses to feel
Hide my mind
From the unconscious desire
Of wound, deep wound

I drag between a liquid grey and the hole

Intoxicated eyes
Madly
Are you searching for the obscure calm
But the partial blindness doesn’t relieve
And viscid words are shoves to the fury
My hostile guide

No way
By now, there’s no way
And I spit on these ruins
What silliness
Quiet

7. Ironical Communion (Amber)

Sweet irony hits my tangled troubles
And frees this blade
From the stranding line
Cynically slides
Through dusty gemstone
To offer a soft respite to my ethereal plagues

Let me cover with silence
The figures around me
A velvety sigh on the noisy stammering

Grow to a physical essence
And heavily walk on this living mosaic called pain
I can hear the breath of every dowel
My demons are waiting

Conceal this fool architecture
From my singing conviction
Blind my cyclopian, trifling dreads
And dethrone the useless days
From my infested eyes
Irony, my care

8. My Glassy Shelter (Dirty White)

Is it so useless to talk
With these still shades?
Sometimes it seems that
I spy my moves
Through the vent of a glass stone

But what am I observing?
The sandpit I’m digging
Doesn’t seem deep enough
‘Cause the cries of the wounded wave
Are covering my strains

But I long for this amorphous embrace
To reach close connections with my ego
This is the spiral

Is it so useless to talk
With these still shades

9. The Other's Touch (Amaranth)

It’s so improbable to find the light
When clouds are rubbing me
Words run, creating hatred scrawl
Streets have nothing more to ask

When I relive this pain
Chessmen have a unique colour
And the clash begins
I feel all the moves
I know all the moves
But I can’t expect them
‘Cause I’m the battlefield

My feeble profile seems to implode
My aural prison becomes the perfect hiding place
View is overturning
To this internal abyss
Where my withered leaves burn
And mirrors have nothing left to reflect